


flying | bang chan

by adore_jisung



Series: and beyond | stray kids [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Blood, Cutting, Dawn - Freeform, Death, Depression, I love him, Insomniac Bang Chan, Producer Bang Chan, Sad, Sad Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, and I'm sorry, cold winter night, feeling empty, or early winter morning, overworked bang chan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 09:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21444217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adore_jisung/pseuds/adore_jisung
Summary: in which chan isn't as strong as he claims to be
Relationships: Bang Chan/Everyone, Stray Kids Ensemble/Everyone
Series: and beyond | stray kids [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545982
Comments: 10
Kudos: 131





	flying | bang chan

**Author's Note:**

> started: 6th january 2019  
ended: 6th january 2019  
edited: 15th november 2019  
3548 words
> 
> this story isn't supposed to romanticize or euphemize mental illness/suicide in any way and i tried to treat the subject respectfully.
> 
> also, i love chan and the other members with all of my heart and i really hope that reality is far away of what i just wrote here.
> 
> all rights reserved to adore_jisung.
> 
> [tw] this story contains mentions of selfharm and suicide. if you don't feel comfortable being confronted with these topics, read at your own risk.

"g'day my babystays", chan was grinning widely into the camera and waved cutely while reading through the first comments invigorating the previously dead section beneath his reflection. he chuckled slightly at the excited fans' fulsome compliments and love messages, not daring to take off his bright smile for a split second. "today's vlive won't be too long, since i still have much to do... but... uh... i'm taking a short, you know like, break? right now and i decided to spend it with you guys!", he explained, his lidded, dizzy eyes focused on one imaginary point in the distance which he stared at for almost a whole minute without blinking. 

the fans had caught him doing that quite often lately, however, for them this habit seemed to be utterly adorable and funny, some of them even created memes from multiple moments in which he was randomly spacing out in the middle of his speech and was motionlessly staring into the deep nothingness instead. calling him dreamy and abstracted, no one really considered the possibility of this pattern being an actual symptom of exhaustion and being overworked, especially because even the other members only laughed it off, clowning their leader when he wouldn't react to their actions but snapped back to reality with a tiny, confused "hm?" several seconds later. 

at least that was what the cameras showed.

none of the fans could see the residual group's concerned faces when they'd watch him entering the dorm with a dead expression at a time other people would get up from bed, no one could hear their questions when or if he even went to sleep this night staying unanswered while chan wouldn't lift his gaze and silently slurp his pungent, black coffee, rubbing his tired eyes, as if he could magically revitalise himself like that. the nine boys have been finding themselves in situations like these uncountably often lately and for the past three weeks, it even happened to become a daily pattern. everyone lowkey wondered why chan hadn't collapsed yet while mistreating his physical and mental health to such an extent, but the death glares they were given when cautiously addressing the topic were enough to make them shut their mouths. hence, chan spent gradually more nights in his studio than in his bed like he was supposed to without anyone else commenting it.

when chan glanced at his computer's clock he sighed internally at the small frame in the corner of the screen showing the familiar digit "4:36am" already. however, he decided to ignore both that and the few concerned fans' messages demanding him to rest well, which were drowning among the big amount of thirsty comments and unnecessary questions about random stuff spamming the whole comment section. no, resting wasn't even a considerable thought for him - this was his job, his passion and he had to lead a team of nine talented boys through the exhausting, demanding world of the kpop industry, he wouldn't show weakness and rest. additionally, he hadn't finished his current project yet and the deadlines wouldn't wait for his lazy ass to get his work done any longer.

he turned his face back to his phone's small screen and continued reading through the wilding comments, answering usual, superimportant questions then and now like "milk or cereal first", "pineapple on pizza or not??", the type of question he was utterly tired of and the asker's desperate attempt of looking extra and funny caused him to cringe internally, however, he certainly would never say that out loud and forced a loud laugh instead before answering with a smug "milk and yes, of course" causing the comments to increase even wilder. he knew what the fans wanted and he'd give it to them. 

always.

he rested his head on his bony hands cluttered with scratches and bruises from their intense dance practices and decided to stay in that position for a while, not really paying attention to his fans anymore. his eyelids became heavier and heavier every further second and threatened to shut down completely, but just when he was dangerously close to letting himself sink into the welcoming sleep his suffering body was desperately begging for, they suddenly snapped wide open and panically searched for the clock - 4:59am already! for fuck's sake, he had planned merely a five minute break, not a whole half hour.

"weak ass", he frustratedly groaned to himself before putting on his adorable eye smile again and waving at his fans while telling them goodbye, the faked sweetness dropping from his voice like honey. "be well and don't catch a cold everyone, it's cold these days! byeee~", he sang before ending the livestream, ignoring the flow of whiny commenters asking him to stay a bit longer.

as soon as the picture of himself froze, his heartwarming smile fell and he turned back to his computer to finish the last song of their new album. their last comeback had been only three months ago, however, merely a week after the release chan had insisted on continuing with his new stuff and started working on another seven songs.whenever his entertainment's ceo asked him how he could even work this fast and effectively, however, he just smiled and proudly praised his members, especially jisung and changbin who did their best to contribute to his efforts as well, not even mentioning how he himself usually spent about 20 hours in the studio and used the remaining four hours of freetime to collect new ideas and inspirations. "sleep" had become a foreign word for him, instead he settled for fifteen-minute naps here and there. and every time one of his members opened their mouth to contradict his self-degrading depiction of the situation, wanting to reveal the truth of their leader sacrificing himself for everyone's wellbeing except for his own, he'd tell them it was fine and made them close their mouths again in a split second. even when being showered with admiration and questions how he hadn't given up yet, he'd just shrug it off and reply with a cagey "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" while ruffling the asker's hair.

however, bang chan wasn't as strong as he claimed - no human being would be able to endure such a big amount of stress and hard physical and mental work in combination with the lack of sleep and meals he had, all by himself. that was one of the reasons why he often found himself sitting on the cold, dirty bathroom floor, decorating his scarred body with uncountable red, thin streets his life was flowing through. it was his seemingly last opportunity to cope with the unbearable situation he had put himself into, since his exhausted body was even too weak to produce tears and to release the small rest of emotions, which instead started bundling up into a big, never leaving lump in his throat choking him.

he couldn't take it anymore. he had read about it before, some years ago, so he tried transferring the mental pain burning his senses like an indelible fire into physical pain instead and it worked. at least that's what he tried to convince himself from. chan wasn't stupid though - the pale, soft skin of his arms was untouched, white and plain, contrasting with every residual spot of his body, spots that were continuously hidden behind several layers of clothing and hence safe from curious eyes or cameras. his hips and his stomach showed more cuts than skin and his thighs had gained so many more of them lately as well that he didn't even know where to continue next. but not even the self-induced numbness, which was consuming his entire body when he was once again chasing a blade through his damaged skin, could give him internal rest, instead he used these dark and threatening experiences as further inspirations for new lyrics and concepts.

it wasn't a surprise that stray kids had already gained tons of fans within their debut year, more fans than an average rookie group would usually gain, due to the four comebacks they had already blessed their listeners with. steadily new, fresh ideas, endless creativity and energy, eagerness, perfection, stunning visuals and as a cherry on top always entertaining. and chan would never dare to let anything or anyone ruin their success, especially not himself.

after rough two and a half more hours he finally leaned back and stared at the now finished audio file in front of him. he couldn't even say how many songs he already had produced in his whole life - somewhat between 30 and 50, he estimated. he had stopped counting at some point when his self-affirmating and conscientious interests prevailed over the mere purpose of passionate pastime.

he replayed his new song over and over with a critical face, not finding any flaw or something he would want to change - however the satisfaction in his sober mind was limited and he only shut down the computer after making sure everything was saved and copied.

one and a half year ago, when he had finished his first mixtape - five songs composed, sung and produced by only himself - his euphoria had lasted several weeks - incredibly happily he had squealed at every single of the 147 likes his content received on youtube, had enjoyed his success in a state of joyful ecstasy, not minding that one thought silently creeping into his head - he needed more than this. he wanted to impress, prove himself, make people speechless. and so he kept working, pushing away his own needs and not giving attention to his increasingly bad constitution suffering from his newly found obsession, not listening to his friends and family telling him not to overestimate his powers, and soon, those 147 likes and 302 views turned into multiple millions of fans streaming and buying stray kids', bang chan's, music. 

he had become powerful. influencing. famous. if he wanted, he could upload an unfinished song and would receive 10 millions of views within one week. it was all up to him now.however, no matter how hard he tried to, the feeling of euphoria he was supposed to feel after having fought his way to such an incredible success was already deeply buried under the voices in his mind telling him it wasn't enough yet and its sweet taste threatened to be forgotten completely. those voices kept screaming at him, kept lightening a fire under him, forced him to spend never ending nights in the dark studio and his long days in the practice rooms.

he couldn't remember that they ever had a nice, encouraging word for him, a praise, a pat on his shoulders aching from the weight he carried on them but he didn't really care either. he believed them. they were his biggest motivation, his reason to keep fighting, they drew his attention on the rising digit of views, they made it impossible for him to stop until he was addicted, couldn't live without them anymore.

after all, they were right. what should a worthless human being like himself even be praised for? chan was convinced that there were actually people working harder, achieving more, being more successful and better than him. in his opinion he really needed to pick up the pace until he was worthy enough to receive an encouraging pat on the shoulder as well, but for now he didn't deserve it yet. he hadn't crossed the finish line yet.

as he sat there in silence, staring at his own reflection in the black mirror of his computer's screen, he suddenly remembered the fans' thirsty comments whining about the lack of updates and how he hadn't posted for already three weeks now. he really couldn't understand why anyone would want to see a photo of his pale face, his tired expression, his lusterless eyes, his forced smile. but anything for his fans. always. he shook his head and slapped his cheeks to wake himself up a little before putting a big grin on his face and posing in front of his phone camera.

**Liked by innieeboo, strawberries.and.hyunjin, ddandyboiksm and 273.619 others**

**realstraykids** please look forward to the new album everyone 👀 STAY tuned hehehe~ 🖤 #straykids #stay #🐺  
**view all 11.747 comments**  
**cherry.on.jisung** a-album?  
**bearjin** BOI LET US REST PLS I AIN'T READY??  
**kts78.ly** lfl and answer qotd anyone? ✨💞  
**jypeskiiz** is it just me or does he look like he hasn't slept in 40128 years¿? please rest n take care of yourselves, the cb can wait :(  
**xxminsung99_** yeeees spoil us please 😍

chan didn't even bother reading any of the comments bombarding his instagram and quickly turned off the notifications blowing up his phone. he was utterly tired of social media, it was too time consuming and only made him feel obligated to show his selfies to thousands of fans, even if he didn't even feel comfortable with it. but anything for his fans. maybe he was just too much of a prude. 

he shoved his phone into his pocket and stepped out of the multistory building, the icy winter air of seoul brutally stinging his unprotected face making him nuzzle it deeper into the big scarf wrapped around his neck. his head was aching as if a truck has just driven over him and the cars hurtling on the broad road next to him seemed to be even louder than usual, making his sensitive ears ring in pain. his body felt heavy and numb, every step seemed to try to drag him onto the hard pavement, the way before him seemed to grow longer and longer the further he walked. several tiny snowflakes slapped his face and the strong wind blowing cold air through his ripped pants' holes made things even worse. 

after something that had felt like eternity, he eventually spotted the group's dorm though and quietly opened the flat's door, trying not to wake up his probably still sleeping members. he placed the keys on the table before making his way into the bathroom with trembling legs almost giving in under his quite light weight, where he had to catch himself on the sink from collapsing on the floor. his grip around the firm ceramic tightened until his chapped knuckles turned white and he lifted his throbbing head just to be confronted with his own mirror image. with a dead expression he studied his features seeming to rather belong to a corpse than to a living human - fallen cheeks, greyish skin, sharp bones sticking out on his cheeks and hips, his dull curls hiding his tired eyes. not moving an inch, a small, raspy chuckle escaped from his dry mouth. if anyone could only see him right now, see this stupid, ridiculous figure being reflected by the mirror, this absurdly weak man trying to carry the whole world all alone and with his bare hands.

fucking pathetic. 

how long was he supposed to keep this up? no one loved him anyway, they only accepted him as he had always been a productive part of the group, but who did he try to fool? he was unnecessary weight on the boat trying not to sink in the rough waves of success, he was worthless. and no one even cared. why shouldn't he just take his pretty mask off and reveal the true, weak innermost part of his he was desperately hiding from everyone but his razor blades? would there ever be an ending from this energy consuming hell if he just kept going like this? 

no. 

but what should he do? run to his already stressed members, to the team he was supposed to lead flawlessly and confidentially? should he annoy them with his stupid problems, make them suffer for something no one but be himself was guilty for, should he soak their shoulders with tears, crying to them how he couldn't take it anymore, how he just wanted everything to stop? 

no, never. 

so should he go back to his family he left back on another continent, the family warning him not to dare coming back without having achieved his goal? should he run back to his mommy like a scared puppy, burying his pride under his exhaustion only to be rejected and pushed away, once again? 

no, of course not. 

the opportunities were limited. maybe it was time to face the truth, time to pay attention to the one and only answer his mind had already answered all his questions with. time to pronounce the unreal seeming thought that used to intimidate him, scare him to the point he would never dare to speak it out loud. the thought promising eternal relief, satisfaction and an ending to all his suffering. it was definitely time. 

and suddenly, his previously frozen body got filled with a warm feeling he hadn't felt for such a long time that he already forgot the sweet taste it brought, he felt the sun rising one last time in his heart, filling all the dark depths with its dazzling, warm rays, making him feel safe for once.

it was the right decision.

the only decision that counted right now. because he knew that if he waited any longer, the sun would never come back again, would drown in the ice cold sea filling up his heart and leave him alone in the endless darkness.

it was the right decision he had been waiting to make for a torturing period of time already. the one his thoughts wandered around whenever others perceived him spacing out then and now.

euphoria suddenly filled him out with energy like an electric impulse, his usually dull eyes were tainted in a glittery shine one last time, when he grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills standing on the sink. he actually had bought them for moments when he failed at shutting the noisy voices in his chaotic mind up, for imaginary breaks he had never granted himself, and now they were going to save him from his suffering. sing him to sleep. 

he calmly trotted into the kitchen, grabbing a pencil and scribbling something on one of the papers sprawled around on the table. scared of himself eventually changing his mind last minute, he opened the dorm's door and sprinted up the stairs leading to the flat rooftop he already had spent various long evenings on. just when nostalgic memories of his past reached his mind and the cold wind hit his face, making him shiver, a big smile creeped on his face scarred from the recent weeks. not one of those faked smiles he used to force for the cameras, no, a true bang chan smile he thought he had already lost long time ago. the winter air filled his lungs, refreshed his heated mind and all he felt right now was happiness. 

pure happiness. 

his usually heavy heart felt light, as if all the weight, all the baggage he used to carry around with him, as if it all was taken away by the strong gusts of wind caressing his body with silky hands. the moment was perfect. 

a perfect ending. 

he slowly stepped forward until only a few last inches were separating him from the edge and he inhaled deeply as he surveyed the large city still sleeping beneath him. the black nightsky had merged with the grey dawn sprawling itself out from the east side, single sparkling stars were watching him while others had already faded behind the thick snow clouds dragging themselves across the horizon. all his doubts and fears were forgotten, he had made his decision.

with shaking hands he fingered the small bottle from his pockets and let a hand full of pills disappear in his mouth, swallowing them determinedly. "if the ground won't do its work, they will", he thought happily before spreading his arms, slowly letting the wind carry his soul through the wide dawn, and letting himself fall into the dark depths.

_finally free._

and three floors under the place he had been previously admiring the breathtaking view from, there were eight other boys sitting around a table and staring blankly at a small piece of paper decorated with their beloved leader's neat handwriting, witnessing their biggest fear having become reality, reality that would leave never fading scars on their broken hearts."perhaps i can now shine as the bright star i unsuccessfully tried to imitate on this dark world. don't miss me"

and thousands of tears were shed that evening, especially when bang chan's last song was released, the beautiful and horrible words digging wounds into the listeners' hearts with their long, bony fingers and yet planting tiny, fragile blossoms in them. and this night, one tiny star was shining brighter than the others in the dark night sky above seoul, when his last words were spoken to thousands of people all around the world. 

_ a city full of lights,_

_thick clouds on the black sky_

_the last of a thousand nights_

_in which he'd learn to fly _

_the horizon wide, people small_

_ spreading his arms, he let himself fall_

_ the wind was music,_

_the asphalt his bed_

_ perhaps he can be happy _

_now that he's dead_

❅


End file.
